Falling Slowly
by Soulless Warlock
Summary: "Falling slowly, sing your melody, I'll sing along..." Hermione believed she was walking into a trap when she accepted Rodney Sounders' invitation to the Broken Flask. She gets more than she expected, but in a way that surprises her. R&R please!
1. Falling Slowly

**Disclaimer: I do not own this song nor do I own the characters created by J.K. Rowling. I do own my own characters, all though, much like my divine birthright as Princess of Canada, I cannot back these claims up with paperwork. **

**Still, as intellectual property, I would request that no one use them without my express permission. As flattering as that would be, I would like a little notice just to make sure no one's stealing my stuff. **

**00000000**

Hermione Granger had always considered herself a practical woman, even as a young girl she had thought of herself that way. Tonight, though, she considered herself one of the stupidest women on the planet. She just had to let Rodney Sounders talk her into showing up to this dingy little pub in Knockturn Alley.

'Talk me into?' she thought. 'He practically goaded me into showing up. And now the wanker hadn't even bothered to show up on time.'

**00000000**

_"__There is a star, waiting to guide us,"_ Hermione sang to herself, her fingers brushing through the pages of her latest of edition of The Guardsmen, a newsletter for wizards and witches who want to make a difference, _"shining inside us, when we close our eyes."_

What she did not see was her fellow sixth year, Rodney Sounders, the scourge of Gryffindor, standing behind, hoping to get more joke material from the left-wing schlock she was reading.

"So, do you do that every time no one's looking or is this a first?" he asked, breaking her concentration.

Fortunately for Ms. Granger, he paid for his transgression. She jerked her head up the moment he spoke, cracking him in the face and knocking him to the ground.

"Ah!" Rodney screamed, grabbing his face. "If you wanted a kiss, you should've asked," he groaned.

"Not even if I was threatened with an Unforgivable," Hermione fired back snidely.

Rodney smirked at that comment. "Really? Because, last time, I checked no one can resist an Unforgivable."

"Harry could."

"Well, Harry's a special case," Rodney said, brushing off that statement. "But, you still never answered my question."

Hermione picked up her magazine. "Which question?"

"The only one I asked."

Hermione quickly tried to change the subject.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said.

"Okay," Rodney said, "I just thought I heard you singing. I mean, it's not like you haven't caught me in that situation."

"All right," the flustered Hermione conceded. "Make your jokes. My voice makes a BlastEnded Skrewt want to turn itself inside out and self-destruct. You've heard more melody from a Mandrake root, you've-"

"I don't need to say any of those things," Rodney chuckled, "you're doing a very good job of that yourself. I was going to compliment you."

Hermione's hand glided down to her wand, which was tucked in The Guardsmen.

"Okay, where is the real Rodney Sounders?" she accused the young wizard standing before her.

"What," Rodney blanched, "I can't compliment you?"

"Not after last time," Hermione growled.

Rodney started laughing at that prank. While Fred and George had opted for the pink hair dye in their pranks, Rodney was happiest with topping their antics, choosing a lovely shade of blue skin dye. That had opened the floodgates for numerous dirty jokes at Granger's expense.

"That is true," he said. "I wouldn't trust me either."

Rodney moved closer to Hermione.

"But, I meant it this time."

Rodney turned on her heel and made his way toward the common room entrance.

**00000000**

Hermione was about to leave the club when Rodney finally appeared, dropping into his seat, a sleazy smile on his face.

"Okay, who was she?"

Rodney laughed, rolling his before he focused on fixing his hair, which stood up on its ends, as if someone had run their hands through it…several times.

"Who?" he asked, finally flattening it.

"The little tart that kept you from getting here on time."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No," Hermione stated.

"Why do you always think the worst of me?" Rodney asked.

"Because I know you," she countered. "And I've busted you in the Quidditch supply closet with those other tramps."

Rodney rolled his eyes, this time out of annoyance.

"Okay, Granger," he finally said, "even if I was with a 'tart' as you call her, I don't see why it's your business."

"It's my business when you insist that I come down to this," she looked around the room, trying to find the right word to describe the club, "dive, then don't bother to show up on time."

"Granger, I was born two weeks late," Rodney sassed," that gives me the right to be late for my own funeral if I want too."

"Your funeral's gonna sooner than you think," Hermione grumbled.

"What was that?" Rodney asked, his smile returning to his face.

'He's goading you again,' cautioned Hermione's inner voice. 'Don't take the bait.'

"I didn't say anything," Hermione finally responded. "I was just thinking about how you are the most infuriating person I've ever met in my life."

Rodney chuckled at this admission. "Worse than Malfoy?" he inquired.

"All right, you got me there," she agreed. "If you make a joke about other places you'd like to get me, you'll be walking funnier than you normally do."

"Ouch, you cut me to the quick, Granger," Rodney said

"And you annoy me," declared Hermione.

"Then why are you here?" he asked. "Finally come to admit I was right about you?"

"Admit to that?" she repeated. "Pigs will-" she quickly stopped herself.

"What?" he asked.

Hermione laughed. "Chances are the minute I say that, you'll find away to make a pig fly."

"Probably."

"Which is why I'm going to say that there is no way I'll admit to that," Hermione amended.

"But, I'll always know the truth," Rodney said, smiling wickedly.

Hermione groaned.

'Don't break," her inner voice cautioned.

"You were curious," taunted Rodney.

**00000000**

"I was impressed," Rodney said, the following day to his two best friends, Gabe Morgan, and Powell, who will never reveal his last name. "She's got a really, really nice voice."

"We're talking about the same Hermione Granger," Powell asked. "The same girl that you once stated that you would rather test your theory on light sockets than listen to her talk?"

"Yeah," Rodney said. "Go figure, huh?"

"I'll believe when I hear it," Powell said.

"Why can't you trust Rodney?" Gabe asked.

"Because the last time I trusted him," Powell growled, "I woke up looking like my Uncle Gomez."

Rodney laughed at that memory.

"Isn't your Uncle Gomez a wanted felon?" Gabe asked.

"Yes!" Powell hissed.

"But, you did learn that you could survive in the wild during those two days," Rodney chortled.

"Yeah," he said, "and I can't wait for you to drop your guard."

"That's funny," Rodney howled. "Like that'll ever happen. Don't forget who my godfather is."

Powell made a face that indicated that Rodney had a point.

"I'll think of something," the Slytherin promised sinisterly.

"But, let's get to a topic I know has a chance in hell of becoming a reality," Rodney said, his confident smile never leaving his face.

"And that would be?" Gabe inquired.

"Getting Granger to show up at The Broken Flask," Rodney declared.

This time it was Gabe's turn to laugh at his friend.

"You really think she's going to show up there?" Gabe asked.

Rodney shrugged and nodded. "Why not?"

"Well, let's see," Gabe pondered aloud. "Because we don't even like going there. And we're ballsy."

"She's friends with Harry Potter," reminded Powell. "Ballsy is like a job requirement when it comes to being his friend."

"True," Gabe said. "But, there's a difference between fighting evil ballsy and daredevil ballsy."

"You have a point there, Mr. Morgan," Rodney concurred. "However, I know, for a fact, that I can get her there within three days."

Powell and Gabe looked at their friend as if he was crazy.

"How do you plan on doing that?" Powell asked.

Rodney pondered this for a moment.

"Well," he finally said, "I'm going to play to her inquisitive side."

**00000000**

"Are you even listening to me?" called out the annoyed voice of Hermione Granger, who was glaring at Rodney in a 'if looks could kill' moment.

Rodney smiled. "You know, my mother once said that if your face will freeze like that if you hold the expression for too long."

"My mother once told me the same thing," Hermione countered. "We both know that's a lie."

"Yeah, for a muggle, maybe," Rodney agreed. "But, my mother always counted on my father to freeze my face like that to teach me a lesson."

"What is wrong with your family?"

"Nothing. We just have unique disciplinary techniques."

Hermione snorted. "So, you're the hippies of the magical world?"

"I wouldn't let my father catch you saying that," Rodney cautioned. "He may be a little loosey-goosey with a lot of things, but being compared to a hippie is not one of them. My father just has little regard for norms," he shrugged. "It's a family tradition."

"I fear for your future children," Hermione quipped.

"I'm probably never gonna have kids," Rodney stated.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Sounders men are not natural parents. The women are, but the men, most of them end up like my grandfather, or my Uncle Jack," he bit his lip, as if lost in a thought. "Nah, parenthood isn't for me."

Hermione studied the youngest Sounders male, "So," she finally said, "did you drag me here for a reason or just to suck in the second-hand smoke?"

"I brought you here for a reason," Rodney admitted. "Now, whether or not you like the reason is, well, entirely up to you."

Hermione groaned, unsure if she wanted the full answer to her question

**00000000**

_"__Woman needs man, and man must have his mate,"_ Hermione sang to herself, believing she was alone.

Gabe moved in between his much taller friends, listening to the song. "I find this song offensive," he protested.

"Shut up and listen," Rodney commanded.

_"__It's the same old story, a fight for love and glory,"_ the young heroine continued to croon, _"a case of do or die."_

"All right," Powell grunted when he saw Rodney's smug smile. "You weren't lying about this."

Gabe turned to Rodney. "So, how's this gonna happen?"

"Just the master work," Rodney insisted, cracking his knuckles.

Rodney slipped out of the shadows, moving toward the seemingly oblivious Hermione.

_"__As time goes by!"_ Hermione concluded.

Rodney, having not learned his lesson from a few days before, applauded her performance. Hermione jerked around, her arm extended. She cracked Rodney in the side of the head again, her wand appearing in her hand in a flash.

"Whoa!" Rodney shouted, raising his arms defensively. "Calm down, Granger, not a Death Eater."

Hermione finally blinked, putting her wand away. "At times, I think you're worse."

"Ouch," Rodney wailed. "Those jokes hurt sometimes."

"I thought you had thick skin?" Hermione questioned.

"I do," Rodney said. "But, even the thickest rock can only take so much."

"Does that mean that the headshots have to stop?"

Rodney laughed out loud. "Nice one," he said. "I take it you've been practicing your banter with Weaseley?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, he's actually an exceptional teacher."

"I don't doubt that," Rodney acknowledged, trying to cut through the tension that always seemed to permeate the air whenever they were together.

"Why are you sneaking up on me this time?" she asked, giving him his opening.

"Right down to brass tacks, eh?" he returned, his arrogant smile returning to his face. "I've come to extend an invitation to you."

As Rodney had predicted earlier, Hermione's eyes narrowed, a sure sign of intrigue on the bushy-haired bookworm's part.

"I wanted to invite you to the Broken Flask," Rodney said. "There's a weekly event where Muggle music aficionados get a chance to perform."

Hermione groaned. "I thought you were being serious about this."

"I am," he insisted. "My uncle owns the place and he usually has a spot open for me during that day."

"I don't doubt that your uncle has that spot for you," Hermione said, "but, the last time I checked, the Broken Flask was in Knockturn Alley."

"Indeed it is," Rodney chorused, his arms outstretched, as if singing.

"And, I'm fairly sure that Knockturn Alley is still on the outskirts of Diagon Alley," Hermione continued to analyze, speaking in her trademark know-it-all voice. "***And*** Hogwarts is nowhere near Knockturn Alley-"

"***And***," Rodney declared with a mocking tone, "I know all that stuff!" he began to circle Hermione. "However, I have a theory or two of how to get there and back."

Hermione's expression was a strange combination of confusion, curiosity, and infuriation.

"But, I want to know, Miss Granger," he said, "is do you accept my invitation?"

Hermione marveled at this one student's brass arrogance. "You're insane!"

"Insane, maybe," he admitted, "but think of it like this. If you agree, you have two options. You could turn me over to Professor McGonagall, my father, and Professor Dumbledore, and leave my fate in their hands," his speech carried on. "Or, you can cast off that bookish shell and live on the edge a little. If only for one night. Show the world that voice you've been hiding."

Hermione almost leapt out of her shoes when Rodney's body moved in closer to her, his strong hands gripping her arms.

"The choice is yours," Rodney said, not relinquishing his grip.

"Why would I choose the latter?" Hermione inquired, her voice becoming more breathy than she had intended.

"Curiosity," Rodney insisted with a smile, releasing her from his grip before slinking off into the alcoves of the school.

**00000000**

"And lo and behold," Rodney concluded, "here you are."

"It proves nothing," Hermione said, remaining as stoic as possible.

"And I don't see McGonagall or the other professors," he continued, "so, I take it, you haven't ratted me out."

"The night is young," Hermione countered.

Rodney nodded. "Too true, Ms. Granger. But, I don't think you did anything except show up."

Hermione studied her nemesis, he was so arrogant. And delusional, he actually believed that his arrogance was self-confidence.

"You never get tired of looking at me, do you, Sweet Pea?" Rodney's deep voice interrupted her thoughts again.

"I am not your Sweet Pea," Hermione said, definition in her counter. "And I was not looking at you. I was sizing you up."

"All in due time," Rodney hinted, smiling suggestively.

"You are insufferable."

"You've said that a million times before. Do you have anything new?" Rodney asked.

"Believe it or not," she commented, "insulting you is not on my mind right now."

"What is?" Rodney interjected, holding his head in his hands, a smile stretching across his lips.

"Getting out of here before you humiliate me again," Hermione answered, getting ready to stand up.

Rodney grabbed her arm. "Now, would you do that? You came here for a reason." He said. "A reason you don't want to admit, but you want to be here…with me."

Hermione studied Rodney's face; he wasn't the type to lie despite his regular omissions of the truth. She could read him very well. Maybe he wasn't planning something to ruin her evening.

"I wanna show you something," he said. "Look over there."

Hermione looked over at the bar where she spotted Cullen Chandler, Rodney's third lackey.

"Cullen is over there," he said, turning her to the stage. "Powell and Gabe are on stage. They're waiting for us."

Hermione looked at him, his friends were out of range and he wouldn't risk his own looks to embarrass her.

"I have a question," Rodney said. "Why do you hide that voice of yours?"

"Because it's not as good as you claim it is," she stated.

"Look up there," commanded Rodney.

Hermione did so, seeing a graying wizard singing an off-key rendition of _How Deep is Your Love_.

"That guy comes in every week, is humiliated, and has three-week old bread thrown at him," Rodney explained. "Do you know why he keeps coming back?"

"He's a masochist?" Hermione asked.

"There's that," Rodney concurred. "But, he also likes to share his love to the world."

"And you want me to share my voice because I love it and music?" she asked.

"No, I want to share your voice because I love it."

Hermione flushed as brightly as Ron's hair, Rodney's skin changing hue as well.

He cleared his throat. "Well, now that that's out in the air…" Rodney stammered, "I'll be heading up to the stage."

Hermione watched him ran up the stairs, pushing the singularly untalented wizard out of the spotlight. Rodney took the microphone, laughing a bit at the wizard who was flipping him off.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" he asked, Hermione noticing what he looked like out of his robes for the very first time.

His black t-shirt clung to his muscular frame, his hair, which she thought was messy from a role in a hay, was messy by choice, and his pants curved to the contours of his lower body. He wasn't a bad looking guy, maybe even handsome. She watched him schmooze the audience.

Rodney had some personality issues, but he had actually complimented her. He had a great voice, and he loved her voice. Maybe he deserved a little help.

"I had a song planned earlier tonight," he said, his face contorted in a confounded way, "but the plan fell…"

He stopped speaking when Hermione walked onto the stage, her eyes telling him she was ready to break that cycle of living on the outside looking in.

"I take that back," Rodney said. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Ms. Hermione Granger and I will be singing a little song I learned when I was in Ireland."

"Which song is that?" Hermione whispered in his ear.

"You've heard me sing it enough around the tower," he said. "Go with it when I give you the cue."

Rodney signaled Cullen, who drew his wand and created a bigger spotlight, allowing the crowd to see him and Hermione, as Rodney signaled everyone to begin.

He counted the beats of Powell's guitar before he began to sing, _"I don't know you, but I want you all the more for that."_

Hermione's eyes lit up in recognition, her mezzo-soprano joined with his gruff tenor. _**"Words fall through me, and always fool me, and I can't react." **_

_"__And games that never amount to more than they're meant,"_ Rodney paused for a moment, _"will play themselves out."_

The young duo sang together, the sounds of Gabe playing the piano carrying their voices with the melody. _**"Take this sinking boat and point it home, we've still got time. Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice, you'll make it now." **_

Rodney and Hermione finally locked eyes, the latter managing a weak smile at the former.

**_"_**_**Falling slowly, eyes that know me, and I can't go back,"**_ they sang together. _**"Moods that take me and erase me, and I'm painted black." **_

Rodney cupped her face, singing into her eyes, as if trying to reach her soul, _"You have suffered enough, and warred with yourself, it's time that you won." _

_**"**__**Take this sinking boat and point it home, we've still got time. Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice, you've made it now,"**_ they trilled.

This cued Powell to play a guitar solo, while Rodney's head movements clued Hermione into when they were to sing again.

**_"_**_**Take this sinking boat and point it home, we've still got time,"**_ Rodney and Hermione sang, their voices melding together. _**"Raise your hopeful voice, you had the choice, you made it now,"**_ they exclaimed. _**"Falling slowly, sing your melody, I'll sing along!"**_

**00000000**

**A/N: The story is done and the song has been sung. I hope you all enjoy this little one-shot and the characters I introduced in it. **


	2. A Scone in the Oven

**Disclaimer: I do not own this song nor do I own the characters created by J.K. Rowling. I do own my own characters, all though, much like my divine birthright as Princess of Canada, I cannot back these claims up with paperwork. **

**Still, as intellectual property, I would request that no one use them without my express permission. As flattering as that would be, I would like a little notice just to make sure no one's stealing my stuff. **

**00000000**

"Of course," Rodney Sounders lipped off, carrying a box under his arms. "We finally get someone in the top job that Hermione and I can agree on and you have to stir the pot!"

He was soon followed by his father, Rodger, who was carrying a trolley cart that was magically bound to his waist. He would have to curse his brother and his wife for putting him on this damned diet later, at the moment he had to crush his son's spirit.

"Because this guy is a fascist who wants to see me thrown out of my office!" Rodger fired back.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "He made a few small suggestions on the changes to make the school safer and now, suddenly, he's a fascist?"

"I was told that when I became headmaster that I could run Hogwarts as I saw fit," Rodger argued.

"It doesn't help that you nearly caused a student to go blind and mute when you decided to let a Bogart in the school," countered Rodney.

"For a class," was Rodger's counterargument. "And how was I supposed to know he saw his parents get horribly mangled by Death Eaters? I was too involved in the war to memorize every single causality list."

The argument between the two men continued until Belle Larkin, Rodger's wife, entered the room. She looked down at the trolley cart attached her husband's waist, gave him a stink-eye before turning her attention to Rodney.

"What are you two arguing about?" she asked.

Rodney and Rodger shouted simultaneously. "He won't admit he's wrong!"

"I don't know why I bother talking to this man," Rodney crowed, "he thinks Shelton wants him sacked from Hogwarts."

"And he thinks that the little left-wing wanker won't come after me if one more accident happens under my watch," Rodger countered, the cart jangling behind him.

Rodney rolled his eyes at his father's paranoia. "And he thinks that Fowler's suggestions are a preemptive measure before the attack."

"That's because…"

"Rodger," Belle interjected, "please don't start today."

"Why not?" Rodger crowed. "My job is in danger and you two think I'm unjustly paranoid."

"Calm down, Rodger," Belle commanded. "If you do, I'll give you the counter curse for the trolley."

"Blackmail?" Rodger queried. "You really married right."

Belle snickered at her husband, throwing a wink at her stepson that he was safe for now. She led Rodger in the kitchen, leaving Rodney alone to finish sort his old things.

He smiled at the toy his older brother, Sutton, had bought him before he went on the traditional world tour almost 30 years ago.

**00000000**

"Why do you always do that?" Rodger asked his wife, as she searched for the hex point on the tray.

"Do what?" she asked in return.

"Take the side of my children," Rodger said. "You know they're always wrong about these kinds of things."

Belle groaned in annoyance at her husband's stubbornness.

"Rodger, I explain why I do once I get you loose from this," she said. "Just do me a favor?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Please don't break wind," she pleaded. "I've already had to revive Grindel already after she handled your underwear," Rodger's face contorted in a shared annoyance with his wife's current expression. "I don't want Rodney to have to come in here and do the same for me."

Rodger was tempted to let one out just to spite her when he noticed a shadow on the wall. He reached into his robes, his fingers gripping his wand, and prepared to strike when he saw a window of opportunity.

"Anyone home?" a familiar voice called out.

"We're in the kitchen, Hermione," Belle called out from behind Rodger.

Hermione entered through the kitchen door, stopping when she saw her father-in-law and his wife in their current position. She cocked her head to side, as if they were two gorillas looking for the right way to mate.

"And now I understand why it was so hard for you two to conceive your daughters," Hermione quipped.

"That," Belle stuck her head out from behind Rodger's backside, "and it's always hard to have an intimate relationship when he thinks his wife is going to show up halfway through and not join in."

Rodger growled as a snapping sound filled the kitchen. The tray slid away from its original source of locomotion.

"Remind me again why I let you and Jack put this curse on me again?" the graying wizard asked his wife.

Belle paused for a moment, hoping to come up with something clever. She then decided the truth was good enough.

"Well, if you just joined the weight-loss club, we wouldn't have had to have done it."

"Yeah, I'd like a club right now."

Belle opened her mouth for another counter when Hermione interjected.

"Is Rodney here?" she asked.

"Yeah," Rodger said. "He's somewhere. I didn't exactly pay attention to where he went. I'm not talking to him."

Hermione rolled her eyes; she knew why the two peas in pod were not speaking. "Are you two arguing about Shelton again?"

"Oh yeah," Rodger snarled.

"He gets this excited about politics and yet I can't get him to move to the left in bed," Belle marveled.

Rodger chuckled sarcastically, turning to his wife. "Well, if politicians screeched as much as you do, I wouldn't listen to them either."

"Rodger, Belle," Hermione interrupted. "As fascinating as this masochistic form of foreplay is, I have something I want to share with you two before I tell Rodney."

"You're dying?" Rodger bluntly asked.

"No," Hermione snapped back uncharacteristically. "It's nothing like that. It's something that should be incredible."

"What is it?" Belle asked, taking a seat at the table.

"Well, um," Hermione said. "You guys know how I've been nauseous and irritable for the last few weeks?"

"You've been nauseous?" Rodger asked, cracking the seal on a bottle of Scotch. "I'm allowed to drink this, right?" he asked his wife, giving her a screwed up look.

"One glass," Belle stated. "As you were saying, dear?"

"Well, I went to St. Mungo's today and I found out why," Hermione explained, hoping her stepmother-in-law would catch the gist of what she was trying to tell her."And he told something I think you and my parents have been waiting to hear since me and Rodney got married."

"And that is?" Rodger asked, downing a gulp from the bottle.

"I said one glass!" Belle shouted.

"I am having one glass," Rodger argued back.

"A bottle is not a glass!"

"Will you two shut up?" Hermione bellowed, causing the elder wizard and witch to jump. "For Merlin's sake, I am glad we're moving tomorrow, I don't think I could bring up a child in this house!"

Rodger and Belle exchanged looks.

"Repeat that part about…" Rodger stopped for a moment, studying his irritated daughter-in-law, "…about a child?"

"You're going to be a grandpa, Rodger," Hermione said, her temper leveling out.

"A grandpa?" the old Auror said, his mind processing the information. "A grandpa?" his tone grew more chipper with each time he said it.

"Are you sure?" Belle asked.

Hermione nodded. "Healer Sterns gave me the results today."

"A baby?" Belle asked, Hermione nodded again.

Belle hugged her stepdaughter-in-law tightly.

"This is incredible!" Belle exclaimed, laughing a little. "Nana Belle?" she tested this new title. "I like the ring of it."

"It suits you," Hermione said excitedly, the emotions finally sweeping over her.

Hermione hugged Belle again, tighter this time.

"What about me?" Rodger crowed from behind the two women. "Where the hell's my hug?"

Belle reached out to her husband.

"Not from you," he shouted. "I want to hug the mother of my grandchild."

Rodger practically threw Hermione in the air with his embrace.

"So, um," he began, "when are you due?"

"Healer Sterns says I'm two months along," Hermione informed the two.

Belle tapped Hermione on the shoulder. "How come Rodney didn't tell us you thought you were pregnant?"

"Because he doesn't know about it," Hermione said in a rare sheepish tone.

"Rodney doesn't know?" Belle questioned.

"What the hell business is it of his?" Rodger asked.

Hermione and Belle gave Rodger a look, as if wordlessly asking, "Are you serious?"

"He should be the first one to know," Belle said.

"I know," Hermione beamed. "I had to tell someone."

"I understand, sweetheart," Belle said. "This is huge news. He…" Belle stopped talking before hugging her husband. "We're gonna be grandparents. I've never been one of those before."

"Neither have I, I didn't have to touch you to be happy," Rodger chided.

"Rodger," Hermione said, cutting off another argument in the making. "Could you take Belle for dinner?"

Belle instantly understood what Hermione meant.

Rodger, however, showed the traditional Sounders obliviousness when he asked, "Why? It isn't her birthday."

"Can you believe he's headmaster of Hogwarts?" Belle asked, rolling her eyes at her husband. "Hermione wants some privacy when she tells Rodney."

"I have to leave my own house for something he did?" Rodger declared.

"Please," Hermione pleaded, "Grandpa?"

Rodger took a breath. "Fine." He growled. "But, no celebration sex on the couch. I just had it cleaned."

Belle darted out of the kitchen to get ready for her dinner date.

"Rodney," she said when she passed him in the living room, "Hermione's in the kitchen with your father."

"Is he torturing her with the Shelton is a fascist argument?"

"No. He's shut up about that," Belle said cryptically, smiling at the younger man.

"You just spent 10 minutes alone with my father, why are you smiling?" Rodney asked, unsure if he wanted an answer.

"Because I like you," Belle said, patting him on the cheek. "You're okay there, Roddy."

Belle turned on her heel and disappeared, soon followed by her husband, who was smiling as well. Rodger simply gave his son a thumbs-up before moving up the stairs to the master bedroom of the house.

"Hermione?" Rodney called out to his wife. "Something's wrong with my dad and Belle."

"What makes you say that?" Hermione questioned, still trying to figure out if she wanted to sit or stand when she gave him the news.

"Well," Rodney began, his footsteps echoing off of the floor, "I was arguing with my father and then, suddenly, he was smiling at me, I thought he was gonna kiss me."

Hermione was half-way through her decision making when Rodney entered the room.

"I've only seen him that happy twice," Rodney said, "he didn't know I was watching that one time."

Hermione stared at her husband, unsure if she wanted to ask. He walked over to her, his arms sliding around her neck, kissing her square on the lips. Hermione eased into the kiss, letting him lift her out of the chair. She cut the kiss off when she felt her bum placed on the table.

"Rodney," she said in between fighting off his kisses.

"Yes?" he replied in his usual Frank Nelson-esque style.

Resting her hands, her signal to him that snogging was not on her mind.

"What is it?" Rodney asked, reading her signal loud and clear.

Screwing up her courage, Hermione finally said, "I have some news for you."

"Good news or bad news?"

"That's all up to you," she replied.

Rodney looked at his wife.

"No," he groaned. "Last time you said that to me, I ended up the victim of one of George and Powell's Wheez-Zon Special."

"It's nothing like that," she said, chuckling at the memory of Rodney trapped inside of a little box while a baby Wheez-Zon chased him. "It's actually good news if you want it to be."

"So, it's good news?" he asked, cushioning himself for the blow he felt was coming.

"Do you remember…"

Hermione was quickly cut off when Rodger and Belle stormed into the kitchen.

"I don't want to go there!" Rodger exclaimed, pushing his son aside. "Must you two always be doing that?" he blanched while looking at their current situation. "The table is for eating meals, not eating…"

"Rodger!" Belle cut her husband off sharply.

"Where are you two going?" Rodney asked, stepping back from Hermione, who hopped off of the table.

"I'm taking her out to eat," Rodger said noncommittally.

"It's your birthday?" Rodney probed.

"No," Rodger cut his wife off this time, "her birthday's in October."

"March," reminded Belle.

"Whatever," Rodger growled, pushing his wife toward the door. "I don't want to go to that Italian restaurant, it gives me garlic stones."

Rodger exited the kitchen, leaving Belle to throw a not so subtle wink at Hermione.

"Don't leave the scone sitting for too long," Belle said, following after her husband when he heard a crash and him cursing.

"Okay," Rodney said in a cartoony voice, turning his attention back to his wife. "What's up with that?"

"Belle was just reminding me of something I was supposed to tell you about," Hermione said, moving toward the stove.

"About a scone?" Rodney asked, slipping his arms around her waist, kissing her neck.

"What about dinner?" she breathed.

"I'd rather have you," he countered back.

Hermione moaned when his hand slipped up her blouse. She quickly pulled away.

"What?" Rodney asked.

"Nothing," she said, "I just think we should talk before we do anything."

Rodney studied his wife's expression, when she was in the "we should talk" mood he knew that he could scratch the "I want to roll around the floor with you naked" mood for a few hours. He took a seat, pushing out the chair next to him, offering it to her.

"Do you remember when we went to Cross Lodge that one weekend?" she asked, moving his bare foot before sitting down in the chair.

Rodney smiled as he remembered that weekend. He did remember the lodge, but very little else outside of her brand new swimsuit, which, if he remembered correctly, was torn during one of his more aggressive advances.

"Are you listening to me?" Hermione's voice penetrated his thoughts.

"What?" he asked, Hermione bristling at that question.

"Naturally," Hermione groaned.

"I'm sorry, Sweet Pea," Rodney fretted. "I'm listening now."

"We had the lodge all to ourselves," she continued, Rodney's focus completely on her, "and we drank a little too much that night and didn't remember a contraceptive spell."

Rodney replayed the last words in his mind for a minute, trying to register if what he was thinking was what she was saying.

"Hermione," he finally said, "are you telling me that you're pregnant?"

"First tell me if that's good news or bad news," she replied quickly.

Rodney didn't hesitate. "That would be amazing news."

"I'm pregnant," Hermione said, smiling from ear to ear.

There was a brief pause, for a second neither one of them did anything. That was, until, Rodney jumped out of his seat, cheering at the top of his lungs. He scooped Hermione off of the ground, spinning her around the kitchen, kissing her again before putting her down. Rodney would repeat this process for about five minutes.

"Please stop," Hermione begged. "I'm getting dizzy."

"Same here," Rodney said, letting his wife slide back onto her feet. "A baby? That is…"

He kissed her again, this time she returned it with the same enthusiasm.

"Now, you said, you wanted me for dinner?" Hermione said, reminding him of his earlier statement.

"Oh, yes," Rodney replied. "Wanna go upstairs?"

Hermione smirked devilishly. "Am I pregnant?"

"Wait till my parents hear about this," Rodney said, scooping her up again.

"Belle and your father already know," Hermione said.

Rodney stopped for a moment. "Do my mother and Camshron know?"

"No."

"Then I can't wait to see their reactions," he said.

"Are you mad about me telling your father?" Hermione asked.

Rodney shook his head. "I'm glad you told him, you've always had a better way of telling him things. You don't cause him to have heart attacks."

"Valid point."

The two stood in the doorway for a while.

"No Hogwarts!" they exclaimed together.

The young couple as they raced up the steps to finish what they started in the kitchen.

**00000000**

Outside of the kitchen, Rodger and Belle rose up from behind the window.

"What the hell do they mean, 'No Hogwarts?'" he asked, his wife groaning at the argument her stepson and his wife would have to deal with when they got back.

Belle's thoughts, however, did not stay on the present, but were focused on the future. They were focused on her future grandchild, her husband's first grandchild. This gave her hope that this child would bring Rodger back to reality and make him the man she, and his family, loved once again.

'That baby has its work cut out for them," she thought before leading Rodger to the Portkey so they could enjoy a half-decent evening out.

**00000000**

**A/N: Another story done and done. I hope you all enjoy it. **


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